The Wrath of A Rabbit
by LawofAries
Summary: Bagginshield: AU (Erebor recaptured without Bilbo) Bilbo is the leader of the Shire, the Shire having a very dark past indeed that has come once again to haunt them. Thorin Oakenshield goes off in search of Hobbits, the halfling creatures that are the best architects to rebuild Erebor, unexpectedly, the hobbits are cornered into making a deal with the dwarves, but not quietly...


**This Story is a Collaborative Piece by AriesDanger24 and LoneArticWolf09**

In Author Notes: LAW09: **Bold** / Aryes **:** _Italics_

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A/N: **Hello everyone! Thanks so much for checking this story out, we're hoping you enjoy!**

 _Aryes: Anyway, we worked hard on this and are really hoping you like it so far! Both Law09 and I live very far away from each other so it took some time, needless to say we hope everyone who is here loves some yaoi because that is what this story will be! I also like to obviously talk a lot in the beginning and distract you! :P So enjoy~!_

Warning: This will eventually be Yaoi! (Male x Male) Bilbo x Thorin to be exact! So if you don't like please do not read, but if you are interested or just curious read on! Just don't say we didn't warn you in later chapters!

Disclaimer: We do not own The Hobbit! But we love it!

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Chapter One

"Mr. Baggins! We've found the bodies!" a male voice shouted, obviously distressed at what he had found and Bilbo Baggins couldn't blame him. Last night had proven itself as another day gone to the Green Goblins of the Gables, and that unfortunately meant that there was another family killed by them in some way. It had been a while since they had actually found the bodies of the victims, because Goblins usually took them underground before they killed them. This was worse, so much so, the goblins obviously did this for fun, for sport, for _entertainment_! Bilbo Baggins felt a distant feeling swell up in him he knew very well as he saw they bloody entrails of what was once a happy family twisted together and tied into a heart shape, he felt disgust rise along with a brief feeling of anger but he let it pass because anger clouded judgement. Not yet had a day passed where the middle aged hobbit didn't worry about the whole damn village, every Shireling was his to protect. Never had a day gone by when at least another precious life had been taken by a goblin attack. Always somebody's cousin, uncle, aunt, mother, father, sister, brother...the list went on and on, and when a child was orphaned, well that was the one thing that really broke Bilbo' hardened heart the most. Since the goblins had been targeting the young more often more recently, it was a challenge even coping let alone surviving.

Glancing around, Bilbo desperately looked away from the thick splattering of crimson innards. Bilbo's eyes watered slightly as he held back the urge to retch. He and a small group had gathered around a small, battered home and had found what was left of the young family who once lived in this house had been newlyweds, they had started a family with sweet twins not even a year ago. They had moved outward of the Shire to have more room to grow crops and a large backyard for the kids. Now that would never come to pass. Those twin girls hadn't even reached the age where they could even walk out on their own in the sun.

The older hobbit followed the voice to its origin, to the one who had called him over about the discovery. It was a smaller hobbit with black wily hair curled around a youthful face, he was probably only the tender age of 18, perhaps even younger. Hopeless green eyes stared at Bilbo as he held the torn clothing remains he had found. Pressing the clotted bloody clothing closely to his chest, a wretched sobbing sound tore from the hobbit's throat. Everyone in the group cringed at the familiar but still saddening sound.

 _Every single person in the Shire had felt a similar feeling of loss, even Bilbo. His own brother had been killed a month ago when the attacks had started. There had been a dreadful sound reverberating throughout the Shire that same day, it was a sound that bewildered the younger hobbits yet struck a fearful start in those who had heard it once before. It was a song, a dreadful song that seemed to mock them and the words sung were ones of frightening things, it had gone on like the heavy hiss of a snake and the scrape of slate on slate for too long...then all through the Shire, silence fell._

 _The song that day was a warning. A warning that all older hobbits knew. It was a song of war. It meant that the goblins were about to attack. Just as they had years before. Shortly after the silence, the dreadful sounds of screams filled the air like static, the brutal shrieks of sadistic glee from the goblins and cries of unhinged terror from the hobbit folk of the shire. That night, hobbits had fought, hid and fled through the dark night deep into their houses or the woods out of instinct. Bilbo had found residence in one of the most secretive corners of his home, gripping his sensitive ears desperately as though he could block it all out. He didn't know the true damage undone until the morning._

 _A horrendous sight of fire and devastation lay before him on the outskirts of town. Bilbo had walked to the scene alone on the outer edge of the Shire, passing several other hobbit folk who mourned over the destruction. Four capitulated crates where houses had been, a single house stood at the end with charred walls crumbling in the pale breeze. With the utmost caution Bilbo proceeded to step into the deserted house, checking his large feet didn't settle onto something sharp, there was plenty to be concerned about stepping on. Toppled and splintering furniture scattered about the hallway, the smashed frames and ornaments lining the mud and blood stained ground. Written in drying blood on the wall was a single message in Goblin language. Bilbo had never formally learned Goblin writing but the symbols on the floor he recognized very well. They were words that were often used during the fifteen years of enslavement. They were unmistakable to his wild fearful visions that flooded back all at once. The words loosely translated to Goblin tongue that meant "No Escape."_

 _It meant the others were dead. Yet it also warned of something Bilbo could never have imagined would happen once again. The hobbits of the Shire were being hunted by the Green Goblins once more, to become slaves and corpses._

Bilbo watched the young man cry further into the small scrap that was left behind. The young man who cried, Bilbo had presently learned, had been a brother of the husband who had lived here. He had boasted everyday about his little nieces getting cuter by the day and how one day they would catch fine men and be happy. Bilbo and the group stared at the desolation with sorrowful, pained eyes. All knew the pain the young man suffered.

Death was cruel enough to weigh this burden upon their shoulders.

One of the older males in their group gently touched the shoulder of the crying man, only to have his hand smacked away. Bilbo walked to the younger man and gently sat on his haunches like a dog while the boy breathed out in his unutterably clear sorrow.

"..Why?"

To this question, Bilbo knew not a single answer for he had asked this questions so many times himself. There was no answer that could relieve the young man of his mourning, Bilbo knew this fact all too well. His unruly brown hair cascaded around his face as he looked over at the other man and something in Bilbo's eyes hardened as he watched the young hobbit fall into an shaking, spluttering state.

Bilbo could not bear to watch this anymore. He simply stood once more, and walked back to the other people in the group and began to give orders. Bilbo knew if he stayed with the young raven haired hobbit much longer he would be affected by his breakdown. It would catch onto him and drag him down into the despair creeping through the cracks of his mind. As much as he hated to become so stern and cold with such a situation as this on his hands, Bilbo also knew that every moment was precious now. Every single minute could be used in some way to protect another hobbit from an attack so there was no time to shed tears. Right now it was unlikely that another Goblin attack would happen the next day, but Goblins were creatures of whim which made them very unpredictable.

* * *

With a heavy heart Bilbo Baggins walked into his home with no sense of relief one should feel in their own home, all he felt was a sense of darkness. A void that had been pulled and stretched into a larger void that held a darker shadow of himself.

Bilbo shivered as he got into the main hallway, heading straight toward the rooms of the house lit with dim, flickering lamps. A small giggle of laughter sounding from inside the lit kitchen along with some sounds of scolding. Bilbo sighed a soft breath of relief.

"-Frodo, you need to dry your hair!" A woman shouted as a small figure ran out into Bilbo's view, a white cloth floating on the small figure. The small figure stopped in front of the older hobbit.

"Uncle!" The small boy propelled himself into a high jump, catapulting into Bilbo's expectant arms. The towel fluttered to the ground soundlessly as the little one cuddled into Bilbo's neck.

'Wet' Bilbo thought instantly as the young boy's pale skin glistened even in the dimly lit hallway. But despite the mild discomfort, his nephew's presence was sorely needed and he took a deep breath of the soap wrung through his raven hair.

"He'll catch his death being soaked through on a horrible morning like this...Ah! Mr. Baggins, you're back!" a blonde haired female hobbit entered into the long hallway and spoke with a stern yet motherly look on her face.

"Frodo seems to have stayed outside with Harring Wilson this morning too long, and when I finally got the boy back inside the house he was soaked with water! Completely drenched!" The blonde woman huffed in a dramatic gesture of her older hands, a small giggle came from the little boy in his arms. Bilbo sighed as he felt Frodo smile at the predicament.

"I am sorry Agatha for my nephews rather unpleasant behavior. You should know better than that, don't you Frodo? You don't want to be wet all day do you?" Bilbo asked pointedly as he looked at the young lad latched around his neck. Frodo laughed and replied.

"But Uncle, you're wet too!"

Bilbo looked down at his drenched form, considerably more watery than Frodo. He looked in fact as though he had just swam a mile in a lake!

A grimace made its way onto the brunette's face as he thought of all the rain he had walked through mindlessly to get home. The opening of the skies had occurred shortly after he left the dark-haired lad and the grotesque scene. Something milder than anger filled him with just as much depth. Irritation evident in gritted teeth as the older hobbit thought of how long before mildew set in or even a cold. No one wanted a sick hobbit especially with the supplies running as low as they have. Frodo shuffled his feet absently and hugged his uncle's legs. A smile worked its way onto Bilbo's face.

"Yes, but I don't want you getting a cold, plus what did I say about behaving while I am gone?" Bilbo picked up the towel and began to dry the little hobbit's wild young hair.

Frodo didn't reply as Bilbo rubbed the towel against the young boy's head, eliciting small sounds of irritation and impatience from his hair being rubbed too hard. Bilbo released Frodo from the white towel's wrath and got down on two knees.

"When I leave it is usually for something very important Frodo, I need you to listen to Agatha and all the other hobbit's in the house when I am gone. What's the rule when I am gone?" Bilbo watched as the raven pouted a little and sheepishly muttered.

"...Be polite and always be nice, be prepared so you don't get scared, and be good when you should."

The older hobbit smiled, thankful that the boy held his rules in his memory.

"That's right." Bilbo looked over to Agatha and nodded to her.

"Frodo, let's get you changed out of those wet clothes, okay? Then we can make some delicious cookies today for everyone, does that sound good?" Agatha asked and she was rewarded by the raven-haired boy nodding enthusiastically. Bilbo had to stop himself from also nodding. Everyone in the Shire knew that Agatha's cookies were the finest in the shire. Bilbo watched as Frodo followed Agatha like an eager puppy into laundry room and once he heard the door shut behind them, headed straight toward his room. He knew the morning had been painful and sorrowful, but the brunette hadn't slept for three days straight. Bilbo had started to see dark spots in his vision yesterday afternoon and he had only grown less aware of them as time went on. Of course he would indeed attend to those in need who looked up to him as their leader, but not now. Now he needed sleep.

* * *

Every step was heavier as Bilbo reached his door, reaching for the handle clumsily. Entering, he walked into the sparingly decorated room. Stony forest green eyes stared longingly at the bed. He almost wished he had the power to move objects to his beck and call so the sweet softness of the mattress would be right before him to just fall onto. Bilbo finally willed himself to move towards the bed eventually and when he felt the feathered plushness, utter peace swelled up within him. Bilbo could care less at that moment whether or not he was wet and cold or whether he was dirtying his sheets with mud or not. He closed his eyes, head sinking into his pillow. The hobbit desired nothing more than the darkness that overtook his despairing and dreadful thoughts. Sleep was a gift and a curse to everyone in the Shire, it was a greedy sleep that took Bilbo and he would not wake until the sunrise the next day.

* * *

Sunlight, a beautiful light which banishes darkness, the small part of nature many take for granted. The slim rays darted and glistened against a blade held in a firm, skilled grasp. The sword rose toward the breaking dawn of the sky and plummeted down to slice across the gruesome soldier of a Goblin, the blade making a steady, clean path right down until it reached the creature's hip.

Thorin, son of Thrain slid the sword from the collapsing carcass and started as he heard another group of goblins rush at him with a terrible war cry, the sound grating through the King's ears like the hiss of a snake and the snarl of a bear. Thorin gripped his weapon and swung his whole body in a circle, slashing at least three goblins through their exposed stomachs. A mane of ebony hair whipped over his shoulder as he spun again with his wrathful sword. The ghost of a smile graced his lips before his expression returned to one of a grimace as the cool splatter of Goblin blood speckled his cheeks and clothing.

Sharp cerulean eyes darted to another goblin target attacking one of his men. Rushing forward, with a graceful but powerful movement, the King of Erebor gutted the brute with precision, the goblin crying out for only a moment before falling to stillness. Thorin exhaled slowly. Raising a steady hand to move several locks out of his vision. There was a silence that swept over everyone in the forest as the fighting ceased. Thorin's gaze sweeping the surrounding area, surveying for injuries or anything suspicious. He saw though that only one of his men had been hurt with a minor injury. Just as the King approached the dwarf tending to the slash across his cheek; a lucky blow from a goblin no doubt, a voice piped up behind him. Bofur's tone was nonchalanct, hinted with awe and slight curiosity.

"Thorin, we didn't think there'd be this many goblins on this path, it's daytime after all..."

The dwarven King sighed as looked up into, squinting at the occasional glimpse of sunlight that seeped through the canopy of leaves and branches above. Thorin was confused. Goblins hated the light as much a dwarf hated an elf, why were they acting this way? He had heard that the Shire had been having goblin conflict, but he didn't know the severity of it, he had just assumed that it had only been a few goblin sightings and the frail-at-heart cowards were over-reacting.

The question of why were the goblins working so hard to steer them away was something Thorin had put to the back of his mind for when he met the Shireling's King or leader or whatever they saw as authority. Thorin currently had motives for travelling to the shire other than just to help. He was here to make a treaty with the Hobbits of Bag-End.

This had never happened before in all of dwarf history.

Why? Well through the centuries, despite the dwarves making treaties with almost every other species (even goblins and elves for short times), they had never attempted approaching the tender hobbits. No one hated Hobbits. It was simply a case of no one having reason to travel to Bag-End. They had no resources, no useful skills (unless you counted celebrating), they could be a fickle, mild bunch with nothing in mind but the vegetables in their back garden and gossip from the neighbours. What did dwarves want with such a collection of characters?

Nothing.

Until now.

"So my king, are we to continue with the trouble we have received from the goblins?" asked Dwalin. Thorin's right hand man. They all looked forward toward the direction of the Shire. Pausing to await their leader's decision.

"There's no sense in going back when we are almost there, no matter the constant disturbances from the goblins" Thorin replied. The company continued to move forward up a short stony bank bristled with dry grass when all stopped and felt the cold lash of horror as a scream filled the air for a short moment, like the graze of a blade over tender flesh. The first instinct of the King was to move forward toward the sound of despair. The other dwarves following behind on their horses. As they trudged up over the short hill from the forest, Thorin saw now the Shire was nothing but the scene of a brutal siege, the aftermath of a massacre. It was no matter of weak defense, it was a matter of relentless attack.

The scream had come not far from where they now stood and all turned to the small male hobbit who lay on the ground still shouting as he held his arm. Several bite marks decorating it, with blood pooling from each puncture. Clearly goblin savagery. The injuries were not fatal but if the man continued writhing and yelping as he did he would surely die regardless.

"Calm yourself Hobbit." demanded Thorin, his considerate voice resonating with a tone of firmness. The Hobbit faltered in his screaming as he finally noticed the dwarves. Then and there his body shivered and slumped. Going still. He had fainted and with his lack of consciousness, a more peaceful quiet filled the air.

"Well, good thing he passed out, I was getting real sick of his screaming, heck if he hadn't shut up I would have put him out myself." Thorin ignored Dwalin's usual crass statement and cursed a little in Khuzdul.

"Well, this man could help us figure out some things, and maybe even put us on good terms with the Hobbits." Thorin reasoned tactfully. "Are we to await his awakening when we could simply find another Hobbit?" Bofur tried and Thorin went quiet for a few moments.

"Probably...but bring the man, they should be more amicable if we show proof of our assistance"

The small dwarf army placed the hobbit on the back of a pony and continued on their way. All were hyperaware of the very real possibility of being attacked again but to their pleasant surprise, they came to the ruined entrance with no more goblins to be found. "What do you think we should do Thorin?" asked Bofur. Dwalin offered a gruff response.

"I know what we should do. Just head in, force them to agree and leave"  
Thorin glanced over his shoulder.

"No, for now I want us to set up a perimeter around the Shire. Dwalin, you and I shall go in during the evening hours after dealing with this" Thorin jerked a thumb back to the passed out hobbit. "When he wakes, the hobbit will tell us who the leader is and where we can find him. We are doing this diplomatically because I don't want our approach to be threatening at first. It won't work that way for some species and I highly doubt hobbits will take to it kindly"

A reluctantly agreeing grunt came from Dwalin and Thorin knew that his right hand man would not challenge any further, though the King felt a sneaking suspicion that Dwalin would still try and scare the hobbits. Thorin turned toward the other dwarves travelling with them.

"We will set camp here tonight, with any luck we should catch the attention of the leader of the Shire, seeing as we are already out of place already".  
The dwarves got off their horses and started to round them up and make camp. Thorin passed his horse off to Dwalin, muttering a soft thank you. With a carefully adept gaze he looked towards the Shire, spotting the occasional shadows of people in their houses, but none were outside.

* * *

Night time fell. The young hobbit they had picked up earlier still had not awoken from his sleep.  
"Wouldn't it be easier to just wake him up?" Bofur asked Dwalin.  
"Aye, it would. But I know that if he wakes up seeing one of us, the small lad will pass out all over again." Dwalin claimed.  
Thorin paid no attention to the small prattle as he looked through the contents of the scroll he held. A half done, admittedly badly written treaty that Thorin was trying to mend. Usually, Thorin had all of a treaty done by the time they reached their attempted allies, but this treaty was particularly hard to articulate for some reason. Every time he wrote something Thorin felt the urgent need to erase them for fear that they would anger the leader. Dwarves had limited knowledge of hobbits. In fact up until this point dwarves had thought very little of hobbit skills. Hobbits were masters in their own way, hobbits were craftsmen, tailors, architects and somewhat scholarly like. From what Thorin knew from his teachings (for his succession) it was said that hobbits were actually the architects for most castles because of their particular and peculiar nature creating the most complex and best ideas and structures. they didn't take this potential into their own homes and way of life for the sake of preferring to spend time on personal leisure time.

But with the right motivation and price, they were the builders of many grand castles. The speed they could design an effective and grand palace was unbeatable. Thor fully intended to restore Erebor to its former glory and beyond. This would be done with the help of the hobbits. The dwarves would complete labouring work themselves but they needed a new design.

Finally, Thorin found the words to write again, and his pen flew across the paper. Thorin had decided as he began traveling toward the Shire that he would not use force on the hobbits. If they did and the hobbits backed away, it would prove troublesome for the dwarves. They would probably have to check the architecture plans for fear of sabotage if they made the hobbits a bad deal and they wanted to seek revenge. Throin felt this was the only way, it would be better not having the hobbits then having hobbits constantly trying to mess up their plans out of bitterness.

Thorin stood, folding the near finished treaty into his pocket. All his thoughts came to a halt as a violent shiver inducing sound came from the Shire. The desperate scream of a female accompanied by hissing laughter. Darting up over the small bank they had set camp at the base of, Thorin stared out from behind a low tree into the community. One of the outer edge houses was seared with flickering, ash littered flames. Thorin turned on his heel, a command on his lips for Dwalin and Bofur to accompany him to the enfolding disaster but his eyes were immediately drawn to the hobbit. He had awoken and was awkwardly stumbling up the short bank to stand beside the King. A small sobbing sound was heard and Thorin turned to him, speaking slowly in calming voice tinted with firm order  
"What is happening in the Shire?"  
The man tried to stifle his sobs and replied, tears still marring his cheeks with bright red splotches.  
"Every night...we are constantly attacked. If-if someone goes into the woods, they-they-they don't...don't come back, they're dead!"  
The spluttering wet tone was soon cleared with the anger overwhelming the still injured hobbit as he continued.  
"Merchants can't get to us! We are living on the limited stock of our pantries and anything edible we can find! Men, women, and children, all murdered..." the man lost the passionate vigour at the mention of remembered atrocities known only by him  
"My wife... my beautiful young son Vidi...eaten..." The man suddenly looked up to the older dwarf, eyes glittering with a mess of anxiety, sorrow, anger, fear. Thorin felt a surge of pity at the man's plight and seemingly the plight of all those in the shire. The faces of his nephews flashed in his mind and his shoulders slumped.  
"My little Vidi...my beautiful wife, Monet..." a low, wretched wail escaped him as he collapsed to the ground on his knees, gripping his head and rocking a little.

Without second thought and after bringing himself to the level of the hobbit. Thorin drew the other man's head in, placing his forehead to his own and breathed out.  
"I am sorry for your loss."  
This gesture was what dwarves did in times of great woe, it was intimate enough but anyone could do it without ulterior motive. The man, though he knew nothing about dwarves, seemed to understand this gesture slightly and his breathing returned to a steadier pace, his tiny form still.

The two parted, Thorin looked deeply in the eyes of the other hobbit once standing.  
"I am Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, I am hoping to make a deal with the hobbits of the Shire and hopefully help both our races, but to do that I must know where the leader, or, or whatever you call the man or woman of authority here."  
The male hobbit nodded quickly, probably still somewhat under a certain spell of the soothing gesture.

"Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, he lives at the top point in the middle of the Shire. Some people had already fled to his house, but we had refused the offer because we thought we were safe this far in..." his voice was faint despite the renewed energy in his hope. Though it faded once more into anguish.

secs agoThorin Oakenshield felt his innards swell of sympathy, in truth all the dwarves did in the group, they all knew the sadness of losing a home as well as losing family. Everyone stood still in silence, unaware of Thorin thoughts on the Shire folk's leader. He seemed to be a good leader if he opened his own home to his people, and if there was one thing the raven haired dwarf knew about hobbits was that they rarely let one of no relation into their house. The entire situation was a lot more serious than the King Under the Mountain had anticipated. He needed more information on the hobbits in general, the King knew very little of the hobbits of the present for he had only heard about the hobbits of history. Of which there was a mere few.

"Shh!" someone suddenly hissed and everyone held their breath. Another sound has slowly erupted from somewhere else down in the Shire. Though rather than the call of fallen victims, it a song. A filthy, gritty tune belonging to the goblins. It's echo haunted the black skies of the night. Thorin heard several words; despite knowing very little of goblin language, he made out pieces of the song.  
Without sleep, no light...end of...light, run...hide...kill...  
The crowd of dwarves felt chilled and after deciding to leave everything for morning, felt uneasy throughout the night. No one got a wink of sleep, not even Thorin who had been so tired he could have fallen anywhere to rest. As the break of dawn clambered over the horizon, the madness of the tune faded and stopped all at once.

As morning spread into the camp of the dwarf company, everyone felt a unanimous shrug of relief sag from their shoulders knowing the night was over. But they were still vigilant in their watch for the goblins. Everyone was on edge with the sudden severity of the attack in the Shire. Thorin, being a good teller of judgement, sent his most stressed soldiers to sleep a little by the vigil of another soldier, and all his more experienced soldiers he sent to fetch some kind of breakfast before they encircled the Shire in the afternoon hours. The young hobbit man lay shrugged over a horse, lulled to sleep by his own crying, and Thorin could not blame he man for doing so. Trauma was something different for everyone, especially how people take it. Thorin had actually done the opposite and was so alert and vigil that he had rarely slept in weeks because of paranoia, but eventually the dwarves in his company forcefully made him relax, sleep, and eat.

The raven haired King felt his eyes light up as he looked upward toward the new morning of the day, the sky sparkled with the purest color of light, a bright white light of dawn's coming. A hopeful sign that the day would indeed be successful. At least that was dwarf superstitions talking for the King had a sinking feeling that things would not go as planned today.

"Your Highness, when shall we make a perimeter?"

Thorin turned to see a dwarf with an exceptional blonde beard, an uncommon colour for dwarves. Thorin regarded him and thought on it for a few moments longer, answering shortly.

"We shall encircle the Shire in noon after we have eaten lunch, for now tell the troops to stay low. I would like to see how the Hobbits are reacting to this tragedy, I don't want them catching wind of our whereabouts just yet if they haven't spotted us on their land."

The answer seemed to be enough for the man, and with a simple salute the man darted off.

"Get up Dwalin"

A swift kick to the lazy sack of bones from Thorin seemed to at least make Dwalin respond. A strong groan came from the large dwarf and silently Thorin rolled his eyes, Dwalin was good at many things but waking up before noon hours seemed to be his lacking trait. A small curse came from Thorin in Khuzdul and in a flash Dwalin raised his hands and sat up like a zombie.

"What did you say about me mother?" asked Dwalin incredulously, his eyes opened now with a single target of their hate, Thorin.

"Good, you're up. Everyone else is up except you...waking you, my friend is like trying to wake a mountain." Thorin responded with a blank face and with another groan Dwalin stretched his arms outward in acceptance that someone else would wake him if he tried to sleep again, whether it be the harsh light of morning he could not shield even if he tried or Bofur, who would do worse things to him just to wake him up.

Thorin, on the other hand, usually woke earlier than the sun and was unfazed by Dwalin's rather childish morning behavioral patterns for by now for it was almost expected of him to act this way. Thorin almost could call it sport to try and wake his bodyguard Dwalin for he proved much to be quite the sparring partner as the King strived to parry and evade his half drowsy attacks. Dwalin was not so amused by Thorin's antics, he was just a dwarf that needed a good sleep once in a while. But Thorin held no leniency in his actions unless he was drunk then the man was somewhat pitiful toward his cause. With a final fatigued groan, Dwalin sat up miserably and looked around at the camp site, everyone was ready for departure towards the Shire.

"Where's the small lad?" asked Dwalin drowsily and Thorin simply looked in the direction where the small male hobbit at the edge of the cliff sat, just before the Shire. The man was clearly worn by the loss of his wife and child, he was devastated.

"What are we to do with 'im? He looks like a mess, I doubt he even knows what's happening now" Dwalin grumbled motioning towards the unmoving hobbit, who perhaps really didn't know what to do. Bofur came up beside Thorin and commented.

"I could talk to him if you like and see if he is still willing to help us."

Thorin gave a stiff nod. Bofur strolled over. Dwalin came up behind Thorin, both watching curiously as Bofur spoke to the hobbit, who at least was able to acknowledge that someone was speaking to him. A small 'humph' left Dwalin as he rolled his aching shoulders around and Thorin did the same with his neck, popping it with an audible 'crack'. Speaking up shortly after.

"We need to make plans, a-"

Dwalin looked over at Thorin as the King paused his words. His grey and blue eyes focused on something in the distance and Dwalin followed his leader's line of sight. There was an small intake of breath as he saw some hobbits approach the hole where a house once stood. There was a group of them, around ten, they all looked like once they were neatly dressed. Concern was plastered onto their faces as most of them cautiously approached. In their movements there was a sense of familiarity but undeniable alert and fear. Skilled hunters such as Thorin and Dwalin could see it. Their eyes were drawn to the only one who walked strong across the field, his stride fierce, and his face neutral and prepared. The dwarves dare not approach the hillside any closer for the fear of being easily spotted, but they could hear the conversations between the hobbits quite easily. It seems they had found a leader of some sort.

Suddenly, behind them they heard the currently 'captured' miserable hobbit speak up. Pointing weakly.

"That's him"

Thorin turned to look at the Hobbit who had labelled that one particular hobbit, the sorrow struck man looked a little more at ease, the words having come out as fast as a breath of relief, shoulders physically drooped at the sight of the man and a glow of admiration was in his eyes.

Returning his eyes to the shire, the King looked to the most recent crimse scene still observed by the Shire folk.

A hobbit examined the ground with saddened intrigue, touching the soil around the gaping hole carefully and examining it. It was clear on the mans face that he knew what had done this and how.

It seems as though the Goblins have taken Grover, Monet, and Vidi-"

"No-NO!" An older woman in the back of the group sobbed loudly and called out. "My Little Monet!"

Some people approached the woman in the group, but to Thorin it seemed as if the leader didn't hear a word.

Thorin really took this chance to look at the authoritative figure of the hobbits, the man who was no taller than any other grown Shire folk. The first thing that stood out to a King such as Thorin was the fact that the man seemed very timid and intellectual, his way of standing suggested he was constantly listening. He wore mundane clothes like all the rest. Truly Thorin was baffled about how...unimpressive the hobbit looked compared to others. On top the hobbit's head was a mass of honey and caramel coloured hair, reminding him of something sweet.

One of the older hobbit's in the group down below motioned forwards and looked down the hole.

"They created this one earlier too"

The older hobbit looking at the leader with fright. Thorin watched as Bilbo turned away from the hole. Speaking with reassuring steadiness.

"We need this hole filled up as soon as we can, we can't let them know they can get away with this. Whilst you do so, I and a party will hunt stragglers on the outskirts of town, knock a few down. We need to fight back"

Though his words held strength, he did not yell or rise a brave fist to the air. He merely spoke. Yet all obliged him as they nodded determinedly.

I'll have it smoothed over by second breakfast boss" one man called from the back.

"Wonderful" The leader smiled lightly.

The older female hobbit; mourning over the loss of her family, looked upwards. Eyes glassy and hollow as tears pricked at her cheeks. Bilbo approached her and whispered something no dwarf or hobbit but them could hear.

"Ms. Poppins, I cannot say I am sorry for your loss, because it will do nothing to fix it. But I can promise you upon my Took blood and with all my heart that I will kill these Goblins for they have done to us. Our people, our families, our homes, and our lives can never be restored fully to what they once were, but I am willing to bet it will feel damn good to make sure all the youngsters of the Shire never have to deal with them again."

With these words, Ms. Poppins grew tall. A fire sizzling to a burn in her soft gentle eyes, and with it came a familiar feeling that she had almost forgotten. The emotion of hate and an animalistic need for revenge, all these feelings brought upon her by the ones who made her remember the feeling so well in the first place, goblins.

Ms. Poppins, with all her short stature and curly greying hair stood with the force of ten mountains and said loud enough for Thorin and his men to hear.

"Yes! We shall stop these monstrous acts against our Shire, no more shall we fear these creatures of the night!"

She turned to the leader.

"I am tired of hiding Bilbo Baggins. So you must keep your words you have said to me and act on them as your grandfather before you did!"

The small group of hobbits looked as bewildered by Ms. Poppins' change in heart as much as Thorin and the dwarves, both groups wondering the same thing. 'What did the hobbit say to pick up such an old woman in her time of grief?'

Bilbo stood sternly and answered sheepishly.

"I am not my grandfather or my mother, but I will only do the best that a Baggins can do"

The old woman smiled a little sadly.

"Aye, your mother would be mighty proud of the man you've become, your father too," the words left the woman's lips before she could stop them. Bilbo's stern look turned a little darker, but the hobbit quickly changed his expression back to one of business and he nodded at her though his heart disbelieving those words rigidly. The dwarves up above could not hear any more for now, the hobbits only spoke quietly amongst themselves. Though it seems orders were given out as one older hobbit rushed back towards the town and another hobbit started taking Ms. Poppins towards the hill in the Shire.

"What are they up to?" asked Dwalin impatiently as he saw the hobbits scattering in a few specific directions.

Grover answered.

"They're going to fill the hole in the ground with brass before sundown, that way the goblins won't crawl up the holes in large numbers. It is the final resort we have fell on. It has a relatively effective outcome since goblins can't dig through brass. We are currently working on goblin-proof houses to live in on the brass, but it is taking too long and Mister Baggins is searching for another way..."

Thorin bit his bottom lip, deep in thought.

'It seemed like the hobbits are capable of some war tactics, but tactics alone cannot accomplish much more than stalling for time.'

"Why are the goblins attacking the hobbits? Moreover why now?" asked Thorin. The way both of his closer companions looked over suggested they too were wondering the same thing. Grover looked downward with a hesitant look in his eyes as he spoke.

"I don't know. It seems like some may know the reason, but no one has spoken to us about it at all, well not me at least."

Dwalin humphed loudly and groaned irritably.

"Really! You don't even have a clue!? Some King you Shire folks ha-"

"BILBO BAGGINS IS A FINE HOBBIT! HE IS A MAN OF GREAT LINEAGE AND I AS HIS SUBJECT WILL NOT SIT QUIETLY WHILE YOU MOCK OUR LEADER WHO HAS SAVED US AND IS A MAN WORTHY OF OUR TRUST!" the young man lashed out and Dwalin stopped cold and with a glare from Thorin and from the outburst of the 'captured'. He quickly realized his mistake and put his hands up defensively.

"Alright now, calm down. I didn't mean-"

Thorin sighed and with a small motion Dwalin stopped any motion towards the hobbit.

"Dwalin, you and this hobbit have more in common than you are wise to, so please quiet and show some respect"

With that Dwalin sat down on a rock and went silent. Thorin sat cross legged on the ground quiet for only a moment before speaking up.

"Alright, we will make a perimeter by noon hours. For now, I suggest we gather food and supplies from the forest collateral or just so we may eat at noon before leaving."

Every dwarf soldier in the encampment went with a small group in different direction while Dwalin, Bofur, Thorin, and Grover remained. Bofur turned to Grover while Dwalin and Thorin discussed over by the cliff ledge and asked.

"Which one is your leader's house?"

Grover pointed toward a earth covered mound with a distinctly different shade of green for a door, it merged into the hill. A perfect disguise. It took Bofur two different tries to actually see it, but he did and he marveled.

"You almost can't see it, can you?" He looked over at the other hobbit who beamed at what could only be a compliment to their tactics.

"Yes, Mr. Baggins family line were very particular with their construction of it. They liked to think that it was a camouflage and a safe house for the people of the Shire!" The man's mood though dropped and Bofur could only imagine what topic the man was thinking of, it was probably about his family and how that safe house could have protected them.

Bofur gave a sad smile and put arm around the smaller man who looked up at him with a sad smile and whispered in self grief.

"Why was I such a prideful fool?"

Bofur adjusted his hat a little as he rubbed the man shoulders in what was to be a comforting gesture and the young hobbit took it as such.

"We all make mistakes…it's not your fault." The hobbit cringed under the dwarf's touch, but then he relaxed a little and whispered.

"What are we gonna do?" Bofur felt a pang in his heart as he heard the fear in the young hobbit's voice, it was so defeated and frightened, and something in it made Bofur so compassionate. This whole situation was way worse than the dwarves had heard to begin with and it was a downward slope for the Hobbits if they didn't interfere now! The hatted man felt that their involvement in this fight could change the dreaded fate of these hobbits, and if they didn't get involved, these hobbits would most likely die. Stress, insomnia, fear, caution, hunger, and everything combined would kill these hobbits or break them eventually.

Bofur offered another pat on the back of the sad hobbit, leaving a single hopeful smile in his wake. He walked over to Thorin and Dwalin who spoke in hushed tones to the other, and interjected with his own thought, "Thorin."

His King's eyes swerved to meet Bofur's gaze as well as Dwalin huffing at Bofur's unusual rudeness.

"What?" asked Thorin with a wondering look as he watched the hatted man look at him with a serious gaze.

"We need to help them…they are suffering just as we did…they are fighting for their homes Thorin!" Bofur stressed as though it should be plain as day to the King. The black haired dwarf nodded, he already could see it, and he was already planning on helping the hobbits. Thorin could understand why this stressed Bofur into such a distressed state, Bofur being the most compassionate out of all dwarves he had ever known, but that was also the reason why he brought the softer hearted dwarf. He could understand the hobbits more and were more sympathetic where Dwalin and Thorin could not afford to be, that is why he was a necessity to their objective, was the voice of emotion and could help Dwalin and him appeal to the hobbits as somewhat emotional to their predicament.

"I understand that, and that is why are here, we are here to mutually benefit from this agreement. Hopefully, the hobbits understand this as well, but I cannot force anyone to do anything." Thorin said, and Bofur's eyes quickly changed to understanding and he nodded, but the drooping of the shoulders even slightly gave away the true feelings that the hatted man felt.

Thorin put a hand on Bofur's shoulder and said confidently, "We will make this deal work, whatever it takes. Erebor must be rebuilt even better than before and these are the only great builders in the world capable of out doing the dwarves of old. They will have to agree."

The younger man nodded as he saw the truth very clearly now, there was no need to get worked up about such things. The hobbits had to say yes, it was practically there only option. Thorin patted the other man for extra measure of reassurance, and Dwalin watched and followed after Thorin, who left Bofur to tend to the defeated hobbit who looked forlornly at the ground.

"When should we make our march?" Dwalin's voice held no emotion towards anything, the exact opposite of Bofur, but Thorin could relate to the man for they had both been through many trials together and many dark and bloody fights. Logic was the saving grace of the hobbits, but on another level the King Under the Mountain was understanding of the hobbit's very real struggle to keep their home. The situation was less severe than the dwarves own loss, but their struggle was more stressful and far more mentally scarring. These hobbits were striving to keep their homes, every choice the leader made at this point was the only life line that these under powered Shirelings had. This leader was certain of his decisions and Thorin had to agree that even though the leader didn't look the part he certainly played the role to a T. These hobbits were watching as their home grew ever closer to being taken over, they all were watching as their own kin died and disappeared and burned into oblivion. Thorin's home was taken in surprise, they had not been able to blame themselves for what they had not known, but these hobbits were different. They would all be haunted by the choices they have made that led to the end, some even watching as the choice they made led to their death.

The way the Shire was being taken was much crueler in that way, it was mentally and physically draining the hobbits. This was not normal warfare tactics, this was more of a siege, and a rather intricate one from goblins. It seems that the green goblins were smarter than an average goblin, much smarter if you think even more about how the goblins have reacted to the hobbits change in strategy. The black haired man couldn't even begin to comprehend the amount of thought needed to keep these hobbits alive for this long on nothing, but provisions. Hobbits are rather known for their gluttonous nature by heart, but they seemed to be taking the siege rather well. Thorin was sure it was purely by how well the leader held his ground, his decisions were listened to by the people with no delay. Bilbo Baggins seemed to be completely trusted by his people, and Thorin was a little confused as to why. The King turned in his step and looked towards the hobbit who was now speaking with Bofur quite avidly by the looks of it, and the black haired male turned back to Dwalin who stood behind him expectantly.

"We shall march in due time, first we must gather some provisions and offer them to the hobbits as well as stock up our own supplies. Travel in groups of 5 for hunting." Thorin gruffly warned and Dwalin heeded the advice as though it was a command. The partially bald headed man walking over to the group of dwarves waiting for orders, and the King sighed as he sat up against a rock on the hard ground. His tailbone and back ached from riding for so long on the pony today, and sitting on the tough solid ground did not help, but at this point the King felt a fatigue wash over him. It was not enough to make him fall asleep, but it was just enough to make him not want to leave the spot he was currently possessing, even if it was uncomfortable. After the sun came down harshly on them in high noon did Thorin stand up again, his mind working faster after a silent few hours.

"Thorin, the hobbit would like to return to the Shire. Do we let him go and tell the other hobbits of our arrival before we go in perhaps?" Thorin whipped around to see Bofur keenly looking at him for an answer with Grover close enough to hear any answer he gave. The black haired male sighed and looked around at the other dwarves who were silently eating with fond mirth together, and the idea he had to admit was not a bad one in the slightest. In fact it would would probably cause less fright and fret among the hobbits than if they came in unannounced. It's not like they would raise an army to meet them in their state, and it would look better if the young hobbit told about how the dwarves had not harmed him in any way. The hobbits would definitely appeal to this more than if they kept the hobbit with them when they rode in, which would look more like a hostage situation. That would be sincerely be unappealing terms to start off for a treaty.

"Alright, Mr. Grover was it?" asked Thorin politely, and Mr. Grover stood up straighter when he was addressed rather than mopey and unavailable as he had been only seconds before.

"Yes, Yes sir," the younger man stated and Thorin continued in a kind voice, taking into account the trauma the man had recently been through as well.

"We are riding into the Shire this afternoon to discuss agreement terms with your leader. It would be a great help if you spoke to your leader before we ride in, we don't want to be seen as invaders, particularly because we are here to strike up a deal, not calm down a panicked bunch of hobbits." Thorin snapped the last part, but quickly returned his voice to a subtle persuasion seeing as it worked best. "Can you do that for us? It will make the deal easier-"

"For both sides!" Bofur cut in helpfully, and Thorin was somewhat grateful for the small cut in, that was the part he needed to make clear to the hobbit who's mind was clouded in mourning.

"I'll do it, when do you want me to go?" asked Grover, his eyes looked determined and his stature seemed to swell with something. Be it pride or just relief at the thought of ending everything with the green goblins, it was hard to say for sure, but Thorin decided that the hobbit was certainly ready to do the job.

"Mr. Grover," Bofur addressed the hobbit kindly beside Thorin and asked, "is there anything about your leader that we need to know? Is there anything that would make the deal harder?"

A small crinkle in the corner of the hobbit's mouth caught the attention of the three main dwarves as the black haired hobbit shook his head. "Mr. Baggins is a fair man and is very good with manners and such. He will give your deal a good hearing and a keen eye, he is no fool. Threatening him would definitely be a bad idea as well since he is from a long line of very...interesting hobbits."

"What do you mean by interesting?" Dwalin asked with an underlying tone of suspicious and perhaps a bit of amusement. It was hard to imagine just how many things were rather interesting to the hobbits.

The small male looked side to side a bit sheepishly and finally said, "Well, I am not exactly sure. You see, there are rumors among us younger generations about the...other side of Mr. Baggins. His father was a Baggins, which is not uncommon at all, but his mother was a bit different. She was named Belinda Took, kin from a long line of more or less, crazier hobbits. Adventurous from what I hear around the Shire, but everything else is very hazy. The older folk tell us some of it, but then they just stop talking about her and the Took side. We don't know much, but the older ones know a lot more than that, I am sure of it!" Grover said heatedly and the half bald dwarf scoffed, "Ha, crazier hobbits, never heard that before!"

Bofur just looked at Dwalin while Thorin scratched his beard with one hand as he rattled his brain. It seemed familiar, the name Took, Thorin had heard it somewhere, but where?

"Alright, you may go back to the Shire Mr. Grover, we will be there soon. Please let them know of our presence here." The black haired hobbit snapped his hand head upward and responded, "Yes sir."

Thorin felt a bit of a smile appear as the hobbit charged off into the Shire, he had been able to calm a sad and utterly broken hobbit in less than a day. He knew he shouldn't have been proud of such a feat, but it was hard not to be, it was simply in his nature to be as such. Dwalin came up behind him and Bofur whispered something lowly, "Thorin…I feel I have heard the name Took before."

Thorin got a chill down his spine, so it wasn't just a faint notion of a doubt that the name meant something. The black haired dwarf hummed darkly as he watched the black haired hobbit, he wondered faintly if the hobbit had perhaps withheld some information from him on the topic, but he quickly remembered the look of sadness, the hobbit could not lie with such grief.

"We will descend into the Shire shortly, pack your things and load your ponies!" the dwarven king shouted and the men around him, including Bofur and Dwalin scattered to their packs and helped load the ponies. Thorin stood a moment and walked closer to the edge of the cliff, which he had not been able to do earlier. The wind met his long black locks, whipping and throwing his braids and strands as he saw the small Shire in the clearing. The green beauty met his eyes in an instant and was a sight that dwarves did not see often, it was gorgeous with flowers a blooming and graceful houses and fences of good nature. The view took Thorin's breath away and the landscape could even challenge Erebor's pure genius design, but there was something that made this view almost sickening. The unmistakable patches of burnt ground and the unmistakable gleam of bronze in some spots of the land from filling holes from goblin attacks, and the atmosphere was dampening instead of the goodness and happy it could be with such greenery.

Almost in an instant, the black haired dwarf started to understand the weight of Bofur's words, the true nature of this slow take over. It was killing the Shire, even if it was small, it was their home. The hobbit's deserved every bit of this land that they took care of, all of it. Thorin had to give it to the hobbits, they were putting up a hell of a fight for something worth fighting for. The King turned to his own pony and got on it with ease, but he couldn't help, but let out a wince at having to get back on the animal once more. Luckily, Thorin wouldn't be on the pony for too long, "Alright everyone saddle up, we will move out in 20 minutes!"

Cheers and shouts met Thorin's warning and a few had even questions to meet his call about the way they would surround the Shire. Bofur explained the answers to the questions while Dwalin put down rules for the rowdier people on the posse and Thorin looked down into the Shire and back at his scroll with the treaty with a nervous look, he hoped things would bode well for both their sakes. The hobbits and the dwarves.

* * *

"Mr. Baggins! This is an emergency!" someone screeched viciously through the Shire and wide frightened looks met Bilbo as he rushed to the one who was wanting his attention. Bilbo had just returned from showering with Frodo and was not entirely dressed when he had first heard someone shout his name, but he had quickly dressed himself in his normal clothes, a pair of dust yellow pants and a sharp green shirt vest over a long sleeved white dress shirt and a green tie. He quickly left Frodo to dressing himself, trusting the boy would do well enough on his own as he came out in a very serious manner. He opened the door to his house to see Mr. Grover, alive and well, standing at his door, his breath coming fast to him. "Bilbo, I wanted to let you know that I am alive, I was saved by some dwarves on-"

"Dwarves!" Bilbo baggins couldn't believe his pointed ears, dwarves around the Shire! Just what he needed! More enemies to aid the goblins in their demise.

"Wait Mr. Baggins! These dwarves are good! They are here to make a treaty with us, I am proof they are good! They healed me, protected me and were mighty kind to me. They are coming to the Shire on ponies to speak with you as we speak!" Grover's face told Bilbo that the hobbit was indeed telling the truth, and in a way Bilbo still got a bad feeling about this dwarf business.

"Grover, can you call everyone to my home! I know you say they are kind, but I want to take precautions and have everyone together, understand?" Bilbo replied calmly and Grover's face only darkened a bit, but it was clear he understood why Bilbo Baggins was worrying.

"Alright" Grover said and turned tail, but Bilbo Baggins patted his back softly before he left to go and whispered in a fatherly voice

"I am so glad you are safe. Please stay that way Grover." The black haired hobbit turned and the golden dirty blonde and brown hair twinkled under the sunlight of late afternoon, giving Bilbo Baggins a calming endearing look. The younger hobbit was stock still as Bilbo smiled gently at him muttering as he fumbled with his pipe, "Now go on. We must hurry to get everyone in my house."

The comment made Grover snap to attention and rush off into the Shire with unease, the reason why was simple, Bilbo Baggins did not smoke unless he was extremely worried. Grover hoped these dwarves could save them, but there was a feeling of fear that went through him as he went around distributing Bilbo's message, ' _What if I had been tricked?'_

The dirty blonde hobbit held his pipe firmly in his hands as he puffed smoke in rings, but the rings were slowly looking less like rings as he felt his small body tremble a bit. He had not eaten in 2 days. He had not drank a drop of anything for half a day. He had not gotten a proper wink of sleep in 3 months, even before the attacks he had been having insomnia. There was nothing he could do about it, but he had to praise his older body to be holding out so well. It had been years since he had been in such a state of distress, living half a life, being driven to wits end and then some more. That type of strain and pressure can break someone, hobbits, elves, humans, goblins, elves: all beings can pushed to the limit, many breaking in the process. Your body never forgets that feeling of soul less life, that empty feeling of darkness, the feeling of no escape, the utter fear of it happening once more, and the body can do but follow the directions from the fear.

Everyone in the Shire above the age 45 knew this feeling, because they had all been through hell. It was something they had hidden, there were things they didn't talk about, rather to try and forget than because of mannerism. The generation in the Shire has a gap, there are no hobbits above the age of 25 and there are no hobbits below the age of 45. Those that were under the age of 25 were the younger generation, they were the offspring of the survivors of a terrible tragedy. A horror by which massacred a whole 2 generation of young hobbits, or moreover left them none existent. That was not a story anyone should retell to their children, and that is why the younger generations don't know. Bilbo Baggins asked all the survivors to never speak a word about the event or the people who died there to their children. He had hoped they would never have to know, that they could their happy lives in ignorance to the past, but it seemed to not be that simple.

Even though, Bilbo still refused to tell the young ones, they could not handle the truth, and it would only cause panic for the situation at hand. Hobbits, even though they had been through misery, still panicked very easily. It was a bad trait we all share, but this was for the best. Bilbo heard the people run through the door as he set up on talk room for any dwarves, if he was going to be in a meeting for a treaty they must have room to sit. The hobbit leader set up at least 5 chairs around a rectangle table when he heard a sound behind him. He turned to see his nephew Frodo standing by the door with a very curious but cautious face.

"What is Frodo?" Bilbo asked softly, the hobbit bending on one knee in front of the boy, his black ebony curls thrown and curled wherever they pleased atop his head. His blue eyes peered at the older man then flickered down to the floor and he asked lightly.

"Uncle, what are dwarves?"

The honey haired hobbit smiled magnificently at Frodo and motioned for him to come over which he did almost immediately.

"Dwarves are from the mountains, they are really tall!" Bilbo motioned upward as he lifted young Frodo with his arm so that he was taller than Bilbo was as he continued with great enthusiasm, "They are big and strong and they have beards!"

Frodo giggled joyfully as Bilbo made a beard gesture with his hand and Frodo did it too. "I think that is a wonderful beard you have there!" The hobbit leader said to the black haired hobbit and the boy giggled at Bilbo's husky voice that was dropped an octave with a gruff sound. Then the boy responded with a similar voice.

"Yes, yes it is!"

Bilbo smiled and then continued, "Dwarves are so strong that they can fight monsters with swords and all sorts of weapons!" The ebony haired hobbit's eyes sparkled with eager curiosity.

"Really!?" Frodo asked with a crazed gleam and Bilbo nodded and said, "So you better be nice and proper to them! Remember the rule Frodo when I am gone or when we deal with guests?"

Frodo smiled and answered it like a song, "Be polite and always be nice, be prepared so you don't get scared, and be good when you should." the Honey haired man smiled, his face crinkling at the greatness of Frodo remembering their little rule.

"Alright, now let's properly invite our new guests in, and remember no tackling them with questions alright?"

Frodo nodded and with that Bilbo let out a sigh, his own rule comforting him slightly at the warm feeling overwhelming him, but it was welcome. It was probably the best he had felt in a few months, he felt in control of this meeting and that gave him some comfort. It was nice.

* * *

 _Aryes: So do you all like our story? :) Hey Law09, let's have a popularity contest! Like for the characters! The one you want to hear more about their pasts or just the character you want to see a better viewpoint of? It will be like a filler chapter! A small snippet before the next chapter comes out, what do you think? Let's hear your votes in the reviews! :) Here are your options to get on our polls, Simply put the number for your answer on your review._

 _1) The Shire's Past_

 _2) More about the Baggins especially Bilbo_

 _3) How Erebor was reclaimed_

 _4) More on our beloved Grover_

 **Law09: Thank you so much for reading, it takes quite a bit of time working on each chapter as it goes through back and forth amendments between us so can't wait to see the poll results so we know what you're most interested in! Until next time! :D**

 _ **~Aryes & Law09**_


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